Skittles
by Misgiving Writer
Summary: There are seven colors in the rainbow and each color has a different meaning. To every person and at every time, it's different. And, for Draco and Neville, these are the seven moments that stood out the most.
1. Red

**RED -**

If there is one thing that Neville Longbottom isn't, it's easy to anger. Before The War, it was near impossible. During The War, it was easier to do but still a feat if accomplished. And now, exactly one year after The War, during his Eight Year at Hogwarts, it's even harder a thing to do.

Not because people don't try, don't make fun of him or laugh at him or jeer at him just like they used too, but because he refuses to let it bother him. Neville knows that the scars they're making fun of were gotten while he defended their peers. He knows that, even if the others think his burst of courage during The War was just a fluke, that it's still here.

It always was and always will be.

That's why it was such a surprise to everyone when he got so mad, so utterly _furious_ at them. And for what? For giving retribution where it was deserved and for doing the same thing that had been done to them for countless years. That was all.

But it wasn't what Neville saw. No, he saw a group of students, of Gryffindors that should have known better by now, taunting a boy to tired and worn to fight back. A boy who didn't think he was _worthy_ of fighting back, even if the words being thrown weren't true and were only said to hurt. And it made his stomach curl and his skin crawl and he couldn't just _stand there_ and watch them tear into that pale skinned boy just as he himself had been torn into while he was still a proper student at Hogwarts.

"Bugger off!" He told them, lips curled downwards and the scarred skin on his face stretching tight. One hand pointed towards the castle, the other rested light upon the shoulder of Draco Malfoy.

And when they didn't move, just stared at him like _he_ was the bad one and not they, he could feel the anger bubble to the surface. Eyes cold and unforgiving, Neville raked his gaze over the group of Eight Year students. And when he spoke, it was in a tone harsher then they had ever heard before.

"I said bugger off!"


	2. Orange

**ORANGE -**

For their last year, their Eight Year, the students were all lumped into one two rooms. One for the Eight Year boys, and one for the Eight Year girls. The teachers figured that it would be easier this way because they would be surrounded by people that had gone through the same things, the same horrors and tortures, as they had.

Draco thought it was rediculous.

He didn't want to be surrounded by people that hated him. That didn't _understand_ that he really hadn't had a choice. That he hadn't wanted to become Voldemort's lackey but his family was at stake and he couldn't let them die. And he didn't want to have to constantly watch his back around them. Which he did.

Even after Neville had approached them that day while they mocked him, almost two weeks ago, they didn't let up. Oh, sure. The words weren't thrown as easily now but, behind the backs of the teachers and of the lone Gryffindor to stick up for him, they were as loud as could be. And they were aimed to hurt.

Who was he to say that they wouldn't, eventually, do more than just call him names and mock his choices? Draco thought it was smarter, safer, to just always be on gaurd.

That's why he went up to the Boys Dorm early that night. He figured that since it was still early and it was a Friday Night, he might be able to get ready for bed in relative peace. Go through the motions he normally passed on and just take time to breathe.

He wasn't expecting to push open the door and be met with the sounds of sheets swishing and a bed creaking and someone thrashing about. Pausing, Draco looked around the room. Spotted someone in bed, tossing and turning like the devil was on their tail, and almost turned and left again. Then he caught a shock of brown, tussled hair and thick scars on one side of the sleeping wizards face and realized that it was Neville in bed.

At the time, his only thought was that it would be repayment for what the boy had done for him. That was why he crossed the room, arms at his side and face carefully blank, and perched himself on the edge of the mattress. Watched as Neville threw his head to the other side, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and face scrunched in what looked like pain.

Nightmares were fickle things, he knew. They could be of anything. The past, the present, the future. Of something you wished would never happen or something you had already seen. And, many times, they were difficult to wake up from.

Such was not the case for Nevile.

No. The moment that Draco reached out and laid a hand on the scarred Gryffindors shoulder, Neville jerked up, the word '_fire_' rushing from his mouth in a breathy gasp.

Draco wasn't sure what to say. It turned out that Neville was quite content not to say anything at all.


	3. Yellow

**YELLOW -**

"You think I don't say anything to him because I'm _afraid_ of him?" Neville asked. He was sure that, right about then, his face was the picture of surprise. Eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted; because what had just been said really was worthy of being called 'jaw dropping'.

Seamus shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean it isn't really like you don't have a reason to be. He was always a bloody git to you when we were younger. It's just, now that we're all here and stuff, none of are scared of him. Draco can't do anything to us anymore."

Besides the two Gryffindor boys, the Eight Year Common Room was void of life. Everyone else had gone down to lunch already, which was Neville had been headed until he was cornered by his housemate. There weren't even any pets running about. Just the soft sound of the fire crackling from behind its iron wrought gates; the noise still unnerved Neville, though he'd long since learned how to hide that from everyone else.

Seamus was still frowning at him and it was another moment before Neville managed to compose himself enough to speak. "I'm not afraid of him, Seamus."

"Then why don't you ever tell him off like we all do? Better yet, why d'ya keep stopping us? I would've thought that you out everyone here would want the prat to know jsut what we think of him!" Seamus threw a hand up in the air, gesturing vaguely to the portrait hole that the blond they were talking about had left through only moments before.

Running a hand threw his untameable mane of hair, Neville bit his lip. It took a lot of effort not to let red fill his gaze right then, not to just let anger spill over. But that wouldn't do anything and he already _knew_ it wouldn't so he made himself collect his emotions before he spoke.

"Because, Seamus, that was then. This is now." And when the other boy still gave him a curious look, Neville merely shrugged and gave a small, sad smile. "Every one deserves a second chance."

Niether of them realized that Draco had paused in the tunnel behind the Dancing Bears portrait, listening to every word that was said with a disbelieving look on his face.


	4. Green

**GREEN -**

Neville was not, contrary to popular belief, a stupid boy. He had never been a stupid boy, just one that needed guidance and wasn't getting it. In fact, he was rather smart. Especially when it came to matters of how he felt and what he thought; even if it was much harder for him to voice those things aloud.

On top of that, he'd been suspecting this for years. Since fourth year, actually, during a very embarressing sequance of events that involved Percy Weasley and the giant squid. He didn't think about the exact event that brought it all out in the open very often but what he'd learend that day...He thought about all the time. Always at the back of his mind, making him doubt himself even more then he already did.

Oh, he himself didn't mind it. Neville was an open boy and he figure that if he happened to prefer blokes to gals, well, that was just that. Nothing was wrong with loving who you loved, regardless of gender.

His Gran, on the other hand, was not so accepting. She not only expected and heir to the Longbottom name by the time he was twenty three but also openly abhorred anyone that was not strictly straight.

So he'd kept his mouth shut to everyone, just to be on the safe side.

Now, during winter of his Eight and final year at Hogwarts, he was given a problem. This problem was something that he'd never expected, still couldn't wrap his head around, even down right scared him.

This problem was the pang of jealousy he felt towards Daphne whenever she spent time with, or even _looked_ at, Draco.


	5. Blue

**BLUE -**

The first trip to Hogsmeade after the war should have been amazing. It should have had all of the Eight Year students practically _dancing_ in place, simply because they would be out of the castle for a while. They would be able to spend time with each other without worry of what others would think; in a town as large as Hogsmead, there were plenty of little nooks and crannies to hide away in, be it alone or with a group.

But the town still bore signs of the war. There were buildings that were still singed and stores that had not opened back up. Some that never would. Instead of the easy-going air that typically filled the air, the village was still in mourning and it showed; from the black curtains hung in windows to the way villagers would pause in front of a store, one that had lost its owner in The War, and bow their heads briefly before moving on.

If that wasn't enough to damper the students mood, then the constant drizzle that had fallen over the village was. It was wet and muggy out with a fog that was just shy of being called 'heavy'.

Dismal, Draco thought, as he trudged alone one of the more abandoned streets. The road that held the Three Broomsticks was the most crowded as the students were seeking refuge from the weather. The blond had avoided the inn, and the crowds of people that it would no doubt bring, all day. As such, he'd gotten rather wet.

But it was better than spending his brief time away from the school surrounded by those that hated him. That loathed both him and his name. Even being wet and cold and constantly having to brush his hair from his face was better than that; and Draco absolutely hated it when his hair was in face, especially when it clung to his forehead like it was right then.

The street he was on, one filled with unowned shops and stores that the students would find utterly boring, was almost empty. With the weather, he'd expected it to stay that way. That, and only that, was why Draco jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

And if his heart clenched a bit when he turned around and found himself staring into an equally wet face and the warm, welcoming eyes of Neville...Well, he was sure there was a good, weather related reason for that too.


	6. Violet

**VIOLET -**

When Neville came into dinner that day, settling down into what had become _his_ seat at the table, no one gave him a second glance. And that was fine. It was fine because Neville didn't want to explain where he'd gone that morning or what he'd done or why there were such vibrant bruises on his face now.

Luna just happened to look up and at him first and all eyes hit him after that. Questions were flung and answers demanded, but not a single on asked if he was alright. No. They just asked what trouble he'd gotten into and if it was related to anything they should no about.

They weren't used to Neville ignoring them. To him giving them a frown and shaking his head was such a big shock that it cut off all questions. It made them mad and they frowned at him as they went back to eating; save Luna who patted the Gryffindor on the shoulder as though she knew _exactly_ what he'd been doing out in the Forbidden Forest, and Draco who was staring at him with those deep, grey eyes of his.

Neville was just starting to load his plate when Draco spoke, voice quiet and calm and, at the same time, very _distressed_ sounding. "Are you alright, Longbottom?"


	7. Indigo

**INDIGO -**

The Astronomy Tower had always been Draco's favorite place to dissapear too. A perfect place to think and let his guard down because, honestly, no one was really that interested in going up to see the stars when they could be playing with their friends.

Imagine his surprise when it was revealed that, in the last three years, Neville had also come to love visiting the Astronomy Tower? And that, some how, they had never met up with each other until that very night?

It was just before curfew but they'd been there for hours. Since dinner, actually. Doing nothing but talking. About classes and the new DADA teacher and everything but The War and its consequences. Everything but what the other students, and the teachers and the papers and their families, wanted to hear them speak about.

They gave tentative smiles and quiet laughs and, slowly, the sky above them changed colors. From the stunning orange that had blazed above them when they first sat down, to a brilliant mix of blues and purples and just a smidgen of black starting to take over the sky.

It was under this sky, under these colors, that Neville took charge. That he swallowed the lump growing in his throat, took a deep breath, and leaned forewards. Lips met and then they parted as both boys leaned backwards, heavy blushes settling on their faces and eyes snapping to the sky.

But there were smiles on their faces and their hands linked together as they sat there, comfortably silent, well past curfew.


End file.
